Every Morning
by Stor-E-Phool
Summary: There is a secret poet in the castle... writing love songs to Jane! Obviously her suitor is the castle Fool...right...?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

The castle bailey was filled with the succulent smell of Pepper's special Rosemary Roast as my friends, Jethro and Gunther, and I sat at the table. The boys conversed - debated, really - about the weather, the harvest, and the current famine as I stared at nothing and everything, numbering my obervations.

Smoke was piling out of the chimney of the kitchen, the sun was setting on the western horizon-

"-but really, Gunther," Jethro said, blonde hair catching in the last rays of the setting sun, " think about it. If it rains now, it would completely destroy what little crops the farmers are bringing in. They'd drown if a sudden storm hit, and we can't handle that while it is so close to winter!" Jethro slammed his soot-caked blacksmith gloves down on the table for dramatic emphasis.

-the garden was looking lush and green, and-

Gunther shook his head. "Smithy," he said, calling Jethro by his petname, "you don't _get it_. That's exactly what we need! If prices on food go up, farmers get more income and the economy is stimulated!" Gunther stated, scratching the newly-accumulated scruff on his chin cockily, "We could use this small famine for the greater good!" Jethro threw up his arms passionately.

-there were forty-three whorls on the wood of the table, an anthill was accumulating on the gray cobblestones-

"Sure, if the 'Greater Good' is _your father's pocket_!" the blacksmith exclaimed. While Gunther himself was a young knight, his father, the Merchant, was a rich and somewhat arrogant man in town who had earned the reputation of a swindler; always looking for the quickest shilling. Amazingly, though, our noble ruler, King Caradoc the Great, employed the dirty rascal on a frequent basis.

I sighed as they continued their conversation, wondering why I was even in the vicinity of these two.

"Do you have something to say about my father, swine-handler?" Gunther growled, standing threateningly, hands clenched.

-there were three birds resting on the clotheslines, a lithe figure was shuffling quickly away from my tower-

I paused my observations and stood suddenly, startling the men's conversation. I smiled tentively at them and scratched my bushy, red head in embarrassment.

"Um, I will catch up with you two later," I said nervously, "I just remembered something I must check on!"

And with that, I sped off to my room; a former storage keep in the top of one of the towers in the castle. It was small and leaky, but it was home.

I sped up the stairs and pushed open the heavy gothic door that lead into my abode. My bed was built into an alcove on the left side of the room, which was originally a mop and broom closet, and my various sentimental knik-naks littered the shelves and mantle. My only set of armour was piled on a practice dummy in the corner, and tapestries hung pendulously from the walls and ceiling. I ignored it all, rushing to my window with bated breath.

The large, west-facing gap in the wall was arched and held a magnificent view of the forrest below. However, what I was interested in was the small, yellow piece of parchment folded neatly and set on the sill, flower pedals and baby's breath strewn carefully over it.

I hurriedly snatched up the letter and swept the flower pedals into the bag where I had been collecting them. I slammed the shutters of my window and kicked the door closed firmly, making sure no one would see as I read my daily letter.

_Dear Jane,_

_I observe my Rose:_

_My Rose is strong_

_My Rose is sweet_

_My Rose is beautiful_

_My Rose is crimson_

_My Rose brings laughter_

_My Rose is you._

_I am awaiting you tonight with utmost excitement, my Rose._

**_A/N: Hey y'all!_**

**_Have you ever recieved a love note? Have you ever sent one? Was it a secret admirer, or did you know who it was?_**

**_Tell me! I like to hear from my readers! _**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

I sighed happily as I refolded Jester's poem and placed it gently with the others, stomach feeling as if it were soaring. For weeks I had been recieving letters everyday on my sill from a "secret" admirer, detailing all he loved about me in love songs and poems. I knew almost for certain whom it was; the court Fool, a gypsy who was clever both in his speech and on his feet. We call him the "Jester", for no one really knows his true name- not even he, or so I suspect.

Only the night previous, the Jester had left his most charmingly sweet note yet, purposing to meet atop the highest tower and watch the moon dawn together.

I sighed happily and bustled toward my dresser drawers on the right side of the room, next to the fireplace. I yanked open the second drawer down and lifted out my nicest dress: a white one with pink lace and frill. I smiled at the chance to wear such finery and prayed Jester would like it: he had not seen me in a dress but once: and that was at least five years previously.

I slipped into the soft material, clasping and tiing the back with clumbsy fingers. I peered into the small looking-glass in the corner of my room and was surprised to find that the dress was quite a bit more snug than the last time I wore it. Hopefully Jester would not notice.

The sun was nearly competely hidden by the tree-covered horizon as I left my room and ran the wallway to the next tower. The sounds of the night-animals awakening ushered up from the dark forrest below the wall, and I quickened my pace. I had been vaguely leery of the dark since I was around twelve years old, but once I met my Jester, he would surely cause my fear to disapate with one of his corny jokes.

Finally, as I reached the base of the stairs of the tallest tower, the sound of a mandolin being plucked carryied down from the roof and I grinned. The romantic Fool was going to sing tonight? I took up the stairs and with each step I took forward, I mentally took one backward.

Step...

What if word got out that I was seen running around in a very un-knightly outfit?

Step...

What if he did not like how I look in a gown?

Step...

What if he _did_ like how I look in a gown?

Worries tumbled through my mind, and as I finally finished the last flight of stairs, I paused, listening to the light, steady strumming of my love's instrument outside the door of the stairway. With millions of thoughts of running back to my room flowing through my head, I took a deep breath and resolved to tell him everything tonight: how I had dreamed about him ever since that summer when he had given me his armour, and how nervous I was to see him everyday, how the sound of his jingly hat always brightened my spirits.

With that thought in mind, I shoved the door open. Upon seeing my love's slim silouette against the Harvest moon, I gulped and nearly-_nearly -_ turned and went back down the stairwell.

"Uh, um, Jester?" I saw his back stiffen, and the music stopped, the final note ringing through the air. I didn't wait for him to turn around and I sped on before I lost my resolve.

"_I-just-want-you-to-know-I-like-you-too-and-I-always-have!_" I exclaimed quickly, eyes closed and stomach reeling with my nerves. There was silence. I looked up, and he was still sitting there, back to me, frozen. "Jester?" I asked hesitantly, and he turned around to look at me.

The face I saw, illuminated by the torchlight, was not the anglular face of the court Fool, but the dirt-caked face of the royal gardener, wide-eyed and pale-skinned. My heart leaped in fright, then mortification set in.

"I, I'm s-sorry, Rake, I thought you were someone else!" I cried and began to make my leave, but he caught my hand.

"No, Jane, it's fine! I would have done the same thing to you!" He assured me, and I felt my embarrassment lessen, but it was still there.

"I-I have to go." I told him, trying to slip from his grasp, but his grip didn't slacken. I looked at him in confusion, and he smiled tentively at me.

"A-actually I wanted to ask your advice about something." he said, his face pleading, and I let out a breath I had been holding in.

"Alright." I said, nodding and following him to the place on the roof where he had been sitting. The Harvest moon was slowly rising over the castle, shedding its light upon the shadowy stones and illuminating the trees so that they seemed almost blue. I sat next to the nervous gardener as he set his now-silent mandolin aside and unfolded a crinkled sheet of parchment with a sloppy scrawl scribbled across it.

"My family is full of farmers," he began, and handed me the letter, "And with the drought, the farm is in trouble." I scanned the pages of the letter, then gasped.

"They want you to come back to their farm!" I exclaimed, my brow creasing. Rake nodded to me, his brown shag of hair bobbing as he did so.

"Yes." He confirmed and plucked up his instrument from the ground. Slowly, his fingers began to move, a familiar tune filling the air. I was silent, watching him.

"...have you decided yet?" I asked finally, and the steady flow of his fingers from string to string paused. He shook his head, confusion in his eyes.

"No. I haven't." He glanced at me. "I love it here, Jane. I love the garden and I love the people-" he strummed a sour note that rang painfully through the air, "-but I love my family and the farm, too." I simply stared at his fingers as they moved skillfully up and down the neck of the mandolin.

Rake had been here at Kippernium Castle for nearly his whole life. He, Pepper, Jester and I had grown up together, running throughout the castle as children. His family had given him to King Caradoc when he was merely seven years of age to assure he would have a good life. What few memories of his family he held were distorted by the passing of time, and besides that... what about Pepper? The two had been in love for forever: they were star-crossed lovers! Would the little cook be able to take the blow to her heart? Would Rake be able to bear being separated from his one love? I shook my head. The obvious choice was to stay, but...

"Rake, all I can tell you is that you must follow what your heart tells you," I told him finally, and the gardener looked at me with a small smile.

"Thanks, Jane. I will."

_**A/N: Okay, so this chapter lays down some pretty important details... not many, but some which would be nice to know by the story climax! ;) This thing has a pretty good outline: many times I begin writing a story with only a vague outline... but Holly Lisle's and Darcy Patterson's emails have helped my plotting skills develop nicely! :D Only fanfiction could help me practice them so well!**_

_**Ugh so Jane just had a HUGELY embarrassing encounter. However, it lead to something very good happening [AKA: influencing Rake's decision]. Has something like that ever happened to you?**_

_**My good friend Crystal was in a Jr. High spelling bee, once, and it was all down to the last leg: if she got this word, she'd win the Bee and go home with a ribbon, but if she didn't... she would come up with nothing. It was intense, watching from the pews to say the least. The other guy began spelling the word... and missed the last letter! I jumped up and cried "YESSS!". All around me was silence, and the whole church auditorium was staring at me in shock. All seven Church Schools which attended the Fine Arts Competition had their eyes trained on me as I uneasily slipped back down into my seat.**_

_**That was the embarrassing part. The good part happened next, when I stood to do the High School Spelling Bee. It was, again, back down to the all-or-nothing, and I was still in! I was never still in! None-the-less, I misspelled the word and before I knew it, the whole congregation of schools, smiling, leaped up and a massive collective of voices cried "YYYYEEEEEESSSSSSS!". **_

_**We all laughed about that for ever that day. It was so funny! So, that was the good part! How about you? Anything mortifying turn good in the end for you?**_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

The closet where I laid in wait smelled of dust and old fur coats. At the sound of a pair of scuffling feet , I peered out the crack in the hinges of the cabinet. The Royal Bookeepery was still and dim, the only light pouring in from the small windows up in the rafters. Shelves of books and scrolls littered the room, all layed in perfectly parallel rows and caked, like everything else in the place, with years of dust.

Suddenly I spotted movement on the far-side of the room, meandering through the books and heading steadily toward the wardrobe in which I resided.

_Closer... Just a bit closer... aaand..._

Suddenly I leaped from the closet and onto my unsuspecting victim, letting out an uproarous shout. The Jester's eyes were terrified as we fell awkwardly to the ground.

"Got you!" I laughed and rolled off of him. He remained on the ground, clutching his heart and breathing fast. He glared up at me annoyedly

"Jane..." he huffed, "Why did you do that?"

"Vengance for your standing me up last night, you Fool!" I grinned and helped him to his feet. He stared at me, patting the new layers of dirt from his clothing.

"Stood you up." he repeated, and I smiled.

"'_With bated breath_

_the lovers met_

_upon the highest tow'r..._

_the moon so red_

_the lovesongs said_

_your love, it gives me pow'r '_. Sound familiar?" I quoted from his verse of song, and I shook my head. "It was a rotten trick: so thank you very much." The blue-clad fool stood and began aloofly scanning the shelves, searching for a new read.

"Shocking." he replied, scratching his chin and not looking at me, "Your use of words, Jane, was nearly poetic. Nearly."

I laughed and snorted. "Yes, 'nearly poetic'." I repeated, "And _very romantic_ as well." I stared at him, waiting for a reaction, and he didn't budge. I wandered to the other side of the bookshelf he was studying and found his face framed by the books and scrolls. "I said '_and_ _very romantic as well_'!"

"I heard you the first time, Jane, but I'm afraid that-"

"I was afraid, too, at first." I interrupted, "When your notes first started coming I just wanted to forget the things you wrote and not feel anything for you and just continue as friends," Jester did not look me in the eyes and kept staring at one book.

"But, Jane, I don't-" he tried to say, but I continued, trying to assure him.

"I didn't want to believe that you were the one writing, at first, because I didn't want to admit-"

"Jane!" He yelled suddenly, and I looked up at him in surprise. He looked like he was about to pull his hair out. Brows knit in concern, I journeyed to his isle and looked up into his face.

"What is wrong, Jester?" I asked tenderly, and something flickered across his face. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Jane, I have never written a lovesong to someone I did not want to marry." Jester said seriously, and I knew he was not jesting. My stomach fluttered like a seizing butterfly.

"And, Jane..." I took a breath in anticipation of his next sentence. "... I have never wanted to marry you."

**_A/N: :D And the plot thickens!_**

**_I bet you guys are proud of me: three updates in one week! XD_**

**_You know, this story has gotten a LOT of visitors(as opposed to hits)-14 in the first day to be exact!-but only two of those visitors reviewed! O_o;_**

**_My writing must be in pretty bad shape or something... maybe not enough of a cliffhanger ending...?_**

**_Weeelll... Just saw "Tangled" today! :D it was awesome! Repunzel has been my favorite princess story for my WHOLE LIFE! :D it was so beautiful when they let those lanterns float across all of that water! XD_**

**_So. Ever been flat out rejected?_**

**_Once, in Elementary School, this cute boy named Ty Willie was single for once. Everyone liked him... including me[he let me cheat off of his homework :P]! It was my chance: so I asked him to go out with me. He sweetly replied that he was interested in someone else. _**

**_AW, too bad for moi. BUT! It was awsome because he was so stinkin' cute about it! :D_**

**_How about you? Have you ever been rejected?_**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Beads of sweat dripped from my nose and chin as I worked, serving blow after blow to the wretched practice dummy. The sun beat down upon my scalp as it reached it's noon position, and I growled as I served a harsh combo with my wooden sword, feeling the sting of the blows reverberating through my hands.

I paused for a moment and took a deep breath. The sound of my love's rejection still rung in my ears, and the numb feeling one gets from crying too long just didn't seem to want leave my head. How could I have made such a fool of myself... twice in less than two days!

I stretched and straightened my back, the brisk breeze brushing across my already chilly cheeks. Winter was a mere fortnight nigh, and the weather was certainly making a convincing display of the fact. It was rather odd, the changing of the seasons: the sun was scorching, yet the wind was bitingly cold. The plants in the garden were plump and ready to harvest immediately, yet we were forbidden a feast in order to stock for the coming white months.

Autumn is a time of contrasts: a time when opposites are naturally interwoven.

A time of romance.

I journeyed over to the court's eastern wall and slumped down with my back to it. I looked up at the cold grey sky, across which drifted a single lazy cloud. The cloud shifted and briefly formed what looked like a puzzle-piece, then dissapated into nothing but grey. I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, letting the condensation from my breath slip away and dissolve, much like my hope- my _longing_- for love.

Who could love one such as me? Me: a woman who could not be even considered, by the furthest stretch of the truth, a lady? A woman with whom men brawl? A woman with whily, unmanagable carrot-colored hair? A woman who has the tendency to frequently fly off of the handle? A woman whose eyes are the color of kitchen mold? A woman who...

"Stop it. Just stop it, already!" whined a familiar voice from above me, and I opened my eyes to see a large and lovable green head peering over the wall against which I leaned. I scrunched up my eyebrows.

"Stop what, Dragon?" I inquired, closing my eyes at him and letting out a breath. Dragon was a... well, he was my dragon, as his name implies. He was as big as a house, with grass-green scales and rather small wings. I had met him years ago when I was barely nine years of age and we had been friends ever since.

"Moping, Jane. The moping." I looked at him. His brass-colored eyes were narrowed in a glare, maw contorted into a stubborn frown.

"I am not moping." I frowned back, making mock at his expression.

"You are."

"Am not"

"Are too!"

I sighed in exasperation. "I know I am, you silly slitherer!"

"I knew it!" he said, and I heard the scratch of claw on stone as the reptile climbed over to my side of the wall, tail swaying in victory. "Now what happened?" He let his haunches collapse underneath him so that he was in a sitting postion, claws crossed and ready to listen.

I smiled hesitantly at him and shook my head. "I doubt you'll understand all of this, but... since you asked, I'll tell you." I said, then began relaying my case to him, quoting all of the poems and explaining my assumption that Jester was the writer. I described both the scene of earlier in the morning and of last night, and my utter mortification each time. It took my lizard all he had not to laugh.

"The-_erf!_-Jester..." He said, "You- _pff!- _you're in love with-_hee hee _-Jingle-Boy?" his green lips were pursed to keep the giggles from errupting from his mouth. Finally, the beast could hold back his mirth no longer and impelled himself uproarously onto his back, scales leaving indents in the dirt whereon he rolled with laughter.

"Oh, _Dragon_!" I huffed, frowning, and he labourously suppressed his boisterous bout into gigglish outbursts.

He rolled back onto his golden belly with a silly grin. "Sorry-_pff!_- it's just so funny: You in love with the Jingler. _Ha!_"

I pouted and shook my head thoughfully. "Its not that I'm _in love_ with him-I mean, Jester is just _not _my cup of... well, I wouldn't want to marry him, let's just say." Dragon looked at me quizzically, wiping a tear of mirth from his big, bronze eye with his claw.

"If you're not in love with him and have no intention of marrying him, why do you want to be smoke-swappers, Jane?" A good question.

"Ugh. I do not know, Lizard Lips." I admitted, coming behind his head and scratching underneath his jaw. "I just... I just wanted it to be _someone_."

"Well of course its got to be _someone_: you just have to figure out _who_!" Dragon stated, then lowered his neck to the ground for me to mount. "Tell me: who are our suitor suspects?"

**_A/N: Hey! :) Long time no update! Can you BELIEVE its already almost halfway to December? O_o; Well, the closer you get to the end of a roll of toilet paper, the quicker it unravels! Merry Christmas! And, hey, I'm dreaming of a... Christmas JatD Fanfic Special! :D YAY! Stay tuned! 'twill dawn soon!_**

**_So. Our dear Jane and Dragon set out on a mystery together to investigate this enshadowed figure of romantic phantomism... Have YOU ever set out on a quest, big or small?_**

**_As I watched the children in the nursury, running and playing, I helped parents to get their children checked out of the daycare. I scrambled to ready children to leave, diving here and there and everywhere to gather up the little munchkins, and one precious soul named David told me he didn't know where his shoes were. I smiled and told him to go find them. With a face contorted into an innocent angelic form, he sweetly replied that he REALLY didn't know where they were. _**

**_"It's the 'Mystery of the Missing Shoes'!" he said heroicly, "Come on, Teacher! Let's go find some clues!" _**

**_I think SOME PEOPLE(I have no idea who...) watches far too much Qubo, because it turned out he had been hiding them all along, and I chased after a five year old for a full ten minutes trying to "solve" this "mystery"._**

**_Have you ever set out on a quest? Was it successful? Real, or playing pretend like me and little David? I've gotta know! Tell me a story._**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"Are you quite sure about this, Dragon?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Go on! Ask him!" he encouraged, prodding my back, and I nearly lost my balance as I stumbled into the dark confines of the Blacksmith's small, tent-like workshop.

The noonday meal had been spent in the sky, discussing every possible suitor in the castle: within reason, that is. In the end, we narrowed the list down to three men, whom Dragon compelled me to list in order of preference. I arranged them so: Smithy the Blacksmith; then Gunther the knight; then Barley the Hay Bayler. I shook my head at the poor selection.

I had some qualms with each man;

First of all, Barley, the grain-farmer who delivered fresh hay to the stables daily, was a gruff, quiet Italian who loomed in corners and sulked most of the time. His dark, curly brown hair fell over his eyes drearily and he was a general dampener in a room. In short, I prayed it was not he who had taken a liking to me.

The middle man on the list was Gunther Breech, who was the arrogant son of the town's equally arrogant merchantman. His father had pulled some strings with Good King Caradoc and put his son under the juristiction of Kippernium Castle's head Knights; Sirs Ivon and Theodore. Since, Gunther had grown into a somewhat acceptable, if irritating, man.

Smithy, though, I had to admit, was the finest choice out of all of them. He had been born into a family of pig herders and raised to take over the farm for his father, Jethro Senior. Unfortunately, the family had fallen on bad times in previous years, and the young farmer's life was torn apart, as he was abandoned on our Honourable King's doorstep. Taken underwing of the castle's late Master Blacksmith, Smithy had blossomed into quite an accomplished metal worker.

Despite having a bad past, the man was quiet and gentle with a deep strength. One could say he was a meek spirit: strong, yet self-posessed. One could also say he was deep and artistic. Possibly even... a poet?

I looked around for the blonde blacksmith, but saw not a soul, save Pig, Smithy's pet, as she tottered away on her forging wheel. The soot-blackened smithing tools were neatly stacked and hung, and various weapons and instruments sat on racks and leaned against walls. A broom and pan hung from the hearth, the bristles of the broom dangling so close to the fire that one might be concerned about it lighting and setting the entire shack aflame.

"Hello? Smithy?" I called, but there was no answer. Only the sound of my voice and Pig's steady snorts bounced off of the walls. No one was here: Smithy was likely shovelling manuer in the stables.

Sighing in relief, I began to back out of the vacant shop, when I felt myself bump into the table behind me, and...

_**CLANK!**_

I turned just in time to see a pile of tools slide off of the counter. I covered my ears as they clattered onto the cobblestone floor, causing an incredible clamour. I saw blonde hair at the corner of my vision, exiting the stables and headed in my direction.

"O-oh. I'm sorry, Smithy!" I said and he laughed, blue eyes twinkling with humour.

"Its no problem." He assured me, smiling and beginning to pick up my mess. "I heard the noise and figured it was just Dragon fishing for a toothpick again."

"Not _yet,_ that is." the reptile inserted, eyeing one of the swords laying on the ground.

I shook my head and began helping him replace the tools on the table, searching for a topic-opener.

"Er, Smithy?" I asked, hanging a tool on a hook at looking at him hopefully, "Do you like poetry?" The blacksmith looked thoughful for a moment.

"I guess so. Pig and dig rhyme, right?"

I smiled at him and racked my brain for something else to say.

"Er... _Strength and honor_

_and honesty, too_," I began, reciting the first love poem my admirer had brought me, hoping that if he were the author he would recognise it, "_All these things I_

_love about you_!"

Silence.

I opened my eyes. Smithy's face was as red as my eyes were green.

"Jane..." he whispered, and I leaned closer. He wouldn't meet my gaze. He just stared at his feet. I blushed a little, too. "Do... do you..." grudgingly he lifted his eyes to look at me. "Don't you think you're a little... forward?"

_What?_

"But, Smithy, I-" I began, but he cut me off, taking off his blacksmith gloves and setting them on the counter. His bare hands were achingly white compared to his tanned arms. He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing.

"Jane, the _man_ must be the initiator. Didn't Lady Adeline teach you anything about courting?" I winced at the mention of my mother. Smithy shook his head and straightened his tools distractedly on the work shop table as he spoke. "And if the man is not man enough to initiate the relationship, then he's not a good enough man for you." He looked up at me. "Did I give some kind of an impression of interest in you, Jane?" My mind whirred.

"You didn't... write the notes, then...?" I inquired timidly, peering sheepishly up at him. His face reddened further.

"I... I can't even _read_, Jane." He said, then tore his gaze from mine. "I... I've got to go." With that, the blonde grabbed his welding gloves and embarrassedly trotted to his chamber, down in the keep. I looked up at Dragon.

"Apparantly Smithy is _not_ my suitor."

_**A/N: Oooh... "too forward". Ouch!**_

_**In any case, praise the Lord for men like Smithy who don't just jump at any chance to steal a smootch from a pretty girl! So many people today[like Jane, in this story] don't guard their purity, and get it stolen away in the blink of an eye, hoping in earnest that this boy or girl would be the One. Praise the Lord for men with self-control! There ARE so few!**_

_**What do you, Reader, what do you think about Purity? Is mental purity important: not giving your heart away to someone until they've worked for it? Is it just as or MORE important than sexual or even just physical purity? What are your feelings on this "Pure" stuff, anyhow? Is it just words, or does it actually have a meritable cause for consideration?**_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

The herbs in the garden were a healthy green, though brown was beginning to form at the leaves' edges from the cold. Mushrooms decorated every corner of the court; cute, round and taupe. A happy tune was drifting lazily through the court of our Courageous King Caradoc as my secret admirer hummed.

The sun was finally beginning to droop toward the horizon, signalling that there was a mere hour's time until supper, as I sat on a bench to the left of what used to be a beautiful, flowing fountain of water. Ever since the drought had begun, King Caradoc had ordered the fountain water to be stored for wetting the garden, therefore the cherubs had ceased flowing.

For the last twenty minutes I had been observing my suitor: Gunther Breech.

Dragon and I had had our doubts and prayers to the contrary, but it was an undeniable truth that Gunther was in love. Even now, as I watched him, he was gathering the flowers which he had always strewn across the love notes. He was humming love songs I had never heard before. He would giggle- _giggle-_every once in a while as he dwelled upon some fond thought of someone.

And if Gunther was in love... if Gunther was in love, there was no alternative than myself!

I grinned and repositioned myself on the bench as I listened to his love songs, trying to match the words of his poems to the notes of the songs.

"_My world was filled with black and white,_" I whispered, "_Dark as pitch or bright as light,_

"_Then a burst- of red, then green-_

_"My world became a beautiful scene._

_"A picture of bright and lovely things,_

_"Darkness no longer have I seen,_

_"for nights are covered from star to moon,_

_"with dreams and visions of YOU, YOU, YOU!" _I smiled as I quoted the poem. I had committed each note to memory: I could recite any given one at any given time with a blink of an eye.

I glanced over at Gunther, who had found the King's pansies and was looking over them with a tender smile, looking for the best one for his little bouquet. His eyes seemed to melt from the steely amber color I had seen and despised everyday into something more... soft. Soft and... sweet.

I grinned and stood, stretching my legs. The color of Gunther's dark, slicked-back hair could be seen over the rose shrubs as he kneeled in the flower-bed. His faded red armour-vest was smudged with dirt in places where he had sat or kneeled to pluck the blossoms, yet he did not notice: he was too concentrated on his bouquet. Normally he would have shuddered at merely even the thought of dirtying his clothes; he was always so concerned about his image should Good King Caradoc happen by.

Smiling, I stepped across the garden, careful to avoid stepping upon any stray twigs or rocks, so as not to make a sound. Gunther leaned forward to pluck the pansy he had finally decided on, and I leaned forward, too, so that I could see his face.

"Boo!" I said gently, and the knight seemed to leap at least a foot in the air, face cloaked in guilt and ears dyed by a blush.

"Jane Turnkey!" he yelped in surprise, brow beginning to droop as he frowned at me, "What do _you_ want, Carrothead?"

"Nothing," I answered with a grin. It was so cute how he was trying to cover up his affections for me with unfriendly words. It was just how he kept his pride: he never meant the silly things he said to me; it was just a ruse he always hid under. I glanced at his bouquet as if I were first noticing them. "Who are the flowers for, Gunther?" I asked, sliding suggestively to his side. He looked at me with confusion, and I just widened my smile. "Are they for someone..." I looked down at my feet 'sheepishly', "...someone... special...?"

I looked back up at him and was shocked to see a discusted look on his face. The knight looked from me, to the flowers, to me, to the sky, and back to the flowers, realization of my implication lighting on his brain. He immediately threw the flowers up in the air as hard as he could, stems and pedals flying violently in every direction.

"Who would gather flowers for such a repulsive hag as _you..._?" he cried, backing away from me, nose turned up in disdain, "I wouldn't willingly come within a ten-foot radius of you if my life depended on it!"

With many more shouted insults and angry words, Gunther made his hustled way backwards, calling out every mock he could think of in order to ward me away. I stood in one place, listening to and letting go of everything he said, trying to register that I had just recieved my third embarrassment in one day, all for the sake of finding the one who loved me.

I mentally crossed Gunther off of my "man-list", and sighed. That meant... that meant that my suitor was more than likely... Barley.

I sighed, regretting even setting out on the quest to find my true love. I had been rejected by the only three men in the castle with whom I could possibly have been happy. With Jester, my days would have been filled with laughter and affection and fulfillment in life. With Smithy, I would have had a solid rock for a husband, with my every need provided for, including beautiful children. With Gunther... well, with Gunther at least there would never be a dull moment.

_But now... _I sighed. With Barley, dry-humoured, flighty and_ boring _Barley, I could never be happy. Barley, the Hay-Baler, could never make my spirits soar like the other men could. He could never give me the joy I needed. He could never... _he could never add up._

With that thought in mind, I stood, wiping away an ashamed tear. Maybe I was doomed to fail in love from the beginning... maybe I was meant by God to enter into the Nunnery. Maybe-

Grumbling, I turned to head back to my tower and see if today's letter might give me another clue, if maybe I had been mistaken about Smithy not being the poet, but bumped into something big and solid.

Shocked, I looked up into the browned face of Barley himself.

"Ciao," He grunted in his rumblingly low voice, dark curly Italian hair drooping in front of his olive green eyes. My stomach fluttered violently, heart racing in my chest and cheeks beginning to burn.

"Hi." I answered breathlessly.

As we parted ways, I headed straight for my tower and the note I knew would be newly placed on my window. I had grown an affection for Italian poetry, afterall!

_**A/N: Hey, hey, hey! What a catch! Nice, Jane! Lol.**_

_**Kay, so stay tuned for my Christmas Special... :) A series of oneshots, some long some short, one for each of the twelve days of Christmas: first chapter on Christmas Day, then an addition for each day afterward until January 5, 2011! :) Check it out as you wait to see how this story progresses!**_

_**So: have you ever had a crush? Was s/he cute? Steamy? ... Foreign? XD tell me! I love hearing from you guys!**_


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